S. Hamley Bildebrandt
“Morningstar is my hot stewardess.”Archive for February, 2009
Yet more bookstore magic!
We have a wonderful teacher here at IHOP–KC named Terri Terry. It is her real name. When she first moved here we started carrying one of her books at the bookstore. As soon as we discovered her name on the cover, it quickly became a cause of great amusement – and great curiosity – for the staff. One day she came by the store and so we finally asked her if Terri Terry is her real name. She told us it is. We asked her if it was her birth name. She responded, “Of course not! Who would do that to their child? I married into it.” I asked her if she had any reservations marrying a man with her first name for his last name. She said, “Of course I did, but when he asked me to marry him I said to myself, ‘Hey, you might not get another chance, so go for it.’” And that about sums up Terri Terry.
Fast forward three years. I was working a shift in the bookstore with my friend Amanda. We were unpacking a box of the same book that introduced us to Terri Terry and sparked our curiosity years back. We noticed that her name was written “Terri L. Terry”. My friend Amanda asked me what I thought the ‘L’ stands for. I jokingly said, “Terri Larry Terry!” and chuckled to myself at the thought of so ridiculous a monicker. We both commented on how unbelievable that would be and we vowed to ask her when we saw her again.
The very next day, Mrs. Terry herself paid the store a visit. I was not there in person, but Amanda was, and she shared with me the following account:
When Amanda saw Terri she asked her what her middle name was. Terry responded, “It’s Lawrence. My parents wanted a boy, whom they were going to name Lawrence. So they kept it as my middle name.”
Amanda kept quiet, weighing the implications of this new information when Terri said, on her own, “So my name is Terri Larry Terry.”
Score.
It never even occurred to me that bookstore magic was at work until I talked with Christine about it, but it fits the pattern. I love bookstore magic.
MacGuffins
I’m about to type a sentence you probably never thought you would read or hear. You probably never even thought to think you’d never read or hear it. I certainly never thought to think I wouldn’t type or say it. Here goes: I’m all about the MacGuffins. Can’t get enough of ‘em.
If you don’t know what a MacGuffin is, allow me to tell you. If you do, feel free to skip down a few paragraphs (I’ll tell you right now, the MacGuffin in this blog post is the MacGuffin). The MacGuffin is a plot device used in film, TV and literature. It is the object that sets a plotline in motion. It is almost always a physical item that is greatly sought after by the characters in a story. It is the force that drives them, the common thread that binds them and, depending on the kind of story, the instrument that makes or breaks them. MacGuffins have been around probably as long as stories have been told, but it was Alfred Hitchcock who popularized the term and took the use of MacGuffins to whole new heights. According to Hitchcock, a MacGuffin is an essentially meaningless item. It serves but one purpose: to give the characters in the story a reason to act. Once they act, the story takes over and the MacGuffin takes backseat. The item does not, therefore, have to contain any intrinsic value apart from convenience. It requires no back story, no justification, no deeper meaning. The thief in a story, Hitchcock said, is always after jewels. Spies are always after documents. No more need be understood or explored.
It is the inherent meaninglessness of the MacGuffin that inspired its name, which is, appropriately, inherently meaningless. Apparently it was Hitchcock’s friend, a man named Angus McPhail, who coined the term MacGuffin. When asked what a MacGuffin was, he used to tell a story that went like this:
There were two men on a train from London to Scotland. The first man noticed a bizarre package in the luggage rack above the other man.
“What have you got there?” asked the first man, indicating the package.
“Oh,” replied the second man, “That’s a MacGuffin.”
“What’s a MacGuffin?” asked the second man, confused.
“It’s a contraption used to trap lions in the Scottish highlands,’ the second man said.
“But,” came the first man, “there aren’t any lions in the Scottish highlands.”
“Oh, well then I guess that’s no MacGuffin!”
Film is especially full of MacGuffins, and I’ve noticed recently how many of my favourite films and TV shows revolve around them. Every episode of Duck Tales features a MacGuffin. All four Indiana Jones films are pretty heavy on the MacGuffin action. So much about what I consider adventurous, romantic and exciting is defined by the types of films that feature an irresistable object. There is something so thrilling for me about the idea of trotting the globe, braving countless dangers in search of some elusive, mysterious treasure. It’s simultaneously a tragic and a heroic act. One outcome is the finding of the object which brings untold riches and possibly fame, but fails to satisfy the emptiness it embodies in the heart of our hero. The other outcome involves the hero failing to find the item and always feeling the sting of the “what if?”, but he finds out a lot about himself in the process and is therefore greatly enriched. Hitchcock might have considered the MacGuffin a shallow expedient, but it becomes a mirror for all the characters’ actions and struggles.
So I thought I would make a list of ten of my favourite MacGuffins. This is by no means a definitive list, and it’s subject to change or addendum, but here it is nonetheless.
10. Leeloo in The Fifth Element
A nice twist on the traditional MacGuffin. The elusive fifth element is said to be the key to unlimited power; the perfect weapon. It turns out it is actually a she. It’s also the only proof I have that Milla Jovavich can be anything but obnoxious. “Multipass.” That’s all I have to say.
9. The plant in WALL-E
Deeply symbolic of rebirth springing from barrenness; about direction being found in a directionless world; about Man returning to his original mandate to cultivate the earth. A symbol of WALL-E’s ability to grow and change beyond what is possible and for EVE to transcend her own directive in submission to a higher one. A simple, beautiful olive branch for this futuristic Noah’s ark story.
8. Princess Peach in the Super Mario franchise
What Peach, and the entire Mario franchise may lack in substance it makes up for in staying power. The story may never change; the story may never be a real story, but it never fails to capture the imagination and to earn the loyalty of successive generations. I can think of few things more iconic in the last twenty-five years than Mario and his quest for Peach.
7. The Green Destiny in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
This is one of my favourite films of all time. This is the movie that made me fall in love with movies. Tragic heroes, star-crossed lovers all in search of a legendary sword and the greatness it endows to the one who holds it. Aesthetically, the sword has a subtly ethereal, almost elvish quality to it. In its first appearance in the film it quietly sings a soft, metallic song when struck, like a siren beckoning all who hear it to come and claim it as their own. And like a siren, it dashes its pursuers against the rocks. As the warriors in this film clash and move closer to their respective fates, it becomes clearer that the sword is not what they seek at all, but love, identity, rest and absolution. Ang Lee deftly turns the pulp fiction source material into subtle, tragic beauty.
6. The Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Monty Python’s Holy Grail and far too many films and stories to bother listing
The mother of all MacGuffins. I list the Holy Grail this low on the list for a couple of reasons. First of all, it’s a victim of its own fame. The Holy Grail has become so synonymous with sought for treasures, that it has taken on that second meaning. “It’s the Holy Grail of professional competitive taxidermy,” is something you might hear. As a result, it’s lost a lot of its original meaning. Our culture is so saturated with its presence, it’s difficult to sift through the legend and gaze upon the mystery of the Grail with the same wonderment and awe of a Knight Templar or a Nazi hating adventurer. Secondly, even if one can see through the ubiquitous hype of the grail, it is, at the end of the day, a cup. A cup Jesus may have drunk from, but a cup nonetheless. Of all the holy relics one could search for, the Lord’s cup is not even close to being the coolest. Nevertheless, it is iconic, steeped in religious lore and medieval mysticism. That makes it one sweet MacGuffin.
5. The Maltese Falcon in The Maltese Falcon
The Maltese Falcon has its origins with the mysterious Knights of St. John, or the Knights of Malta – monks, warriors, secret society. They went to Jerusalem during the Crusades to protect pilgrims from ambush. They remained to build a hospital and their own private army. When the Crusades ended, they left the Holy Land with mountains of gold, or so the legend says, and they built their own secretive kingdom on the island of Malta. The King of Spain, it is said, required only one thing in exchange for allowing them to remain on Malta: a single falcon sent to him every year. As a token of their gratitude, instead of sending him a simple bird, the knights carved a falcon from solid gold and adorned it with the finest of their jewels. They sent one of their own commanders to guard the falcon on the voyage to Spain. But en route, the boat was attacked by pirates. They killed all on board, including the knight, and disappeared. The falcon was never seen or heard from again…or was it?
Let me also mention this: Humphrey Bogart. Enough said.
4. The Dead Man’s Chest in the eponymous Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest
Most people I know did not like Pirates of the Caribbean 2. I liked it a lot. It wasn’t a perfect film, but what it got right it nailed. Davey Jones’ tragic love story is what fairy tales and pirate stories such as this are all about. The mystery of the Dead Man’s chest, the power it holds, the lengths heroes and villains alike are willing to go through to get it, the act they must be willing to commit to get what they desire – all of it is classic bedtime story adventure.
3. The One Ring in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings
Obligatory on any MacGuffin tribute, Sauron’s ring is nearly as compelling a MacGuffin as could be imagined. Forged by the Dark Lord, he poured all his power, all his malice into it, giving it a life of its own. With it, he would be far more powerful than he ever was. Without it, he is nothing more than a flickering shadow of his former greatness. Any who bears this Ring is granted the power of its maker, but at a cost. Its living, breathing malice consumes the bearer, twisting them into an abomination as dark as Sauron himself. A terrifying symbol of man’s love of darkness and the corruption of desire, it is literally Wagnerian in its scope. Tolkien borrowed heavily from Germanic myth and Wagner’s brilliant, 18 hour long Ring of the Nibelung opera featuring a cruel dwarf who forges a Ring that endows its bearer with unlimited power on the condition that they forsake love eternally.
The One Ring is nearly as tragic an object as was ever forged, but Tolkien outdid himself with the next items.
2. The Silmarils in The Silmarillion
The Silmarils are the center of the most tragic tale in Tolkien’s expansive world. The Silmarils are jewels of incomparable beauty, forged by an elf named Feanor who was consumed with lust for his own creation. As the centuries and millennia unfold, successive generations of elves and men commit acts of unspeakable darkness in order to possess these jewels. They are the focal point and the narrative vehicle for the slow moral demise of both elves and men. Far more tragic than the One Ring because the jewels were originally created in purity but were corrupted by their maker’s lust, they drag down generations of people into darkness and murder and they do not end in triumph for the cause of good. The Silmarils meet an end as shameful and pathetic as the races of men and elves they corrupted. By far, the most heart breaking and sorrowful moral tale Tolkien wrote.
1. The Ark of the Covenant in Raiders of the Lost Ark
But nothing tops the Ark of the Covenant. Built under divine command, the Ark contains the original Ten Commandments, Moses’ staff, and manna bread from heaven. It is also the throne of God on this earth; the dwelling of his power, the place where his glory dwells, the seat the God of the Universe sits on to pronounce judgment and mercy. As long as the army of Israel carried it before them, they were invincible against all attacks of their enemies. The Ark of the Covenant is the ultimate weapon, gifted to Israel by God himself. The Knights Templar, the original creepy secret agents, searched for it on Solomon’s mount, secret cults claim to hold it in their compounds in Europe, even real life Indiana Jones style adventurers like Ron Wyatt have risked life and limb to find it in rubble and caves beneath the Old City of Jerusalem. Throw in a story about Hitler trying to claim it as his own to take over the world and slaughter the very people who crafted the ark in the first place and you’ve got yourself the MacGuffinest MacGuffin cinema has ever known.
